Being Led To The Ark
by MadeOfSquirrels
Summary: When Troy Wagner wakes up one morning, he doesn't expect to find Jay in his bed, nor for there to suddenly be two Tims. But when Alex takes Joseph and flees to find a new Rosswood, he needs to find his friend... and fast. Because now... there's two very real threats on his tail. [Possible slash later, depends how I feel.] Cover image by Nymm-Kirimoto!
1. Chapter 1

Troy knew the day was off to an interesting start when he woke up to find himself face to face with… uh, himself. He blinked stupidly, and for a moment, wondered how the mirror had gotten there, and then his doppelganger mumbled something and rolled over. This had the effect of getting Troy to leap out of the bed and scream, two movements that almost always result in the perpetrator getting tangled in the blankets and falling over - which it did.

Troy stared in terror as his clone jerked awake, hands casting around for something that wasn't even there; and then sat up, blinking furiously.

"Oh my god," Troy croaked, and the figure on the bed stared at him in horror.

"_Oh_ my god," they whispered.

"Who are you?" Troy squeaked, wishing he could sound a little more manly in the situation. "Why are you in my bed?"

"I don't know! Why do you look like me?" the other man asked suspiciously, eyes narrowing, and Troy took the time to look him over a little more thoroughly. Yes, they were definitely _him_; but paler, almost pallid, and much thinner, with a few bruises and scars along the ashen skin, and enormous purple bags under the eyes.

He had a sudden, horrible feeling that he knew _exactly_ who they were.

"J-Jay?" he said, and felt stupid as soon as he said it. _He_ was Jay; he had created Jay based on himself, more accurately, and that was all Jay was - a character.

"How do you know my name? Who _are_ you?" Jay snapped, recoiling, and Troy sat down on the edge of the bed, staring into his own eyes. It was quite Zen, really.

"I'm Troy Wagner… and there's something you're going to have to see."

* * *

Jay sat staring at the screen for a full ten minutes after the credits on the DVD had rolled; when Troy tried to say something, he had received a cold stare that he recognised as his own death glare. He had stood up, gotten Jay a cup of coffee, and then Jay stood up and calmly punched him in the face.

"Ow!" Troy yelped from his new seat on the floor, and clutched his nose.

"You did all this to me?" Jay asked, and his voice was frozen with hatred. "_You_ made my life a hell… for the internet?"

"You weren't _real_!" Troy snapped, trying to halt the trickle of blood that was slowly leaking from his nostril. "You were _me_! I stood there in the woods, Tim never really did all that stuff, Joseph wasn't really evil!"

"For me it was real," Jay said icily, and his shoulders were shaking as he stood over Troy. "I lived that, Trey…"

"Troy," Troy growled.

"Who cares?" Jay snapped, and tears began to run down his pallid face. "I lost seven months of my life because… what, because you had _college work_ to do?! I lost my best friend because you decided a good _twist_ would b-be having Alex be a psychopath? I watched that _thing_ drag Tim away d-during a seizure because the 'fandom'-" here he made inverted commas with his hands, "-g-g-guessed something was going to _happen_ to him?!" He pawed away a tear from his red cheek with the sleeve of the brown hoody Troy had lent him, and turned away, entire body now caught in the throes of what could've been a panic attack. "I have to g-g-get out of h-here…"

Troy was up and in front of the door, shaking his head, and Jay tried to wrestle him out of the way, strength and adrenaline gone as anger turned to fear.

"No, no. No!" Troy snapped, and Jay stared him in the eyes, pupils tiny pinpricks of claustrophobia and horror. "If there are two of us outside, this is not going to end well." His phone began to ring, and he put a hand up. "Go in the kitchen, get me some tissue, and we'll figure this out, okay."

Jay slumped, looking defeated, and nodded, following Troy's gesture to the kitchen.

"Hello?" Troy said, and there was a shout on the other side. "What?"

"Troy, something really fucking _weird_ is going on," Tim's voice blared forth from the speakers. "You're not going to believe this…"

"Let me guess. Marble Hornets Tim appeared in your bed today," Troy said flatly, and there was silence and then another shout. "Uh, Tim, what's with the shouting?"

"He's breaking things," Tim said flatly. "Looking for his medication-" There was silence as the two of them remembered the various problems that they had conjured up for other!Tim, and Tim inhaled sharply. "Shit shit _shit_…"

"I don't think they brought anything with them," Troy said, voice tight as Jay handed him tissues, and Jay shook his head, lifting up a video camera. "Where did you get that?"

"Where did I get what?" Tim asked confusedly, at the same time as Jay explained it'd been down the side of the bed, and Troy rolled his eyes.

"Not you, Tim. But check down the side of the bed, anywhere in the bedroom. And go wake up Joseph and Alex…"

There was another moment of horrified silence, and then the phone hit the floor as Tim ran off. Jay's phone began to buzz, and he pulled it from his pocket, staring at the number.

"Hey."

His face went white, and Troy lunged for the phone, putting it on speaker.

"I don't know what you did," the person on the other end said, voice completely flat. "But I've got him." There was a strangled squeak, and Troy's hands shook as he held the phone. "He says his name's Joseph."

"Alex, please," Jay murmured, and there was a yelp from Joseph that made Troy's eyes squeeze shut as he imagined what Alex was doing to him.

"No. I'm going to Rosswood, and I'm taking him with me," Alex said flatly, and hung up.

Troy collapsed against the wall, sliding down to sit at the foot of it, eyes fixed on his own knees. Jay sat next to him, face in his hands, and then they looked at each other.

"Why," Troy asked weakly. "Why this morning. Why today. Why anything."

"We need to get to Rosswood," Jay said, and Troy shook his head.

"It's not real," he murmured hoarsely. "We made it up. We filmed in a local park…"

"Then we go there," Jay said, and Troy's phone began ringing again.

"Hello?" he whispered.

"I can't find Jo," Tim mumbled. "But we found other Tim's medication, and… Troy… uh… there was blood. There was blood on the floor of Jo's bedroom."


	2. Chapter 2

It was disconcerting to see two Tims, Troy realised as he looked at them walking across the car-park. One may have been normal-looking, if not a bit concerned, and the other might've been chalk-white, with haunted, purple-rimmed eyes and a bit more stubble, but they were still terrifyingly alike.

"Tim?" Jay asked, voice weak, and the other Tim nodded.

"I see you ran," he said, and Jay nodded. Troy looked at his Tim, and motioned for him to step away from the two of them.

"He's got Jo. He called us," he explained, voice level and steady - he had done his angry screaming in the car, as Jay checked the camera for any relevant footage. There had been none. "He said he was going to Rosswood, so he can only be here." He motioned to the park, and Tim nodded.

"What the fuck is happening?" he asked flatly, and Troy shrugged.

"I don't know. I haven't called Brian or Seth yet, but since you'd assume they'd have called us or something, I think it's just the three of us. Uh. Six of us. Me, Jay, Jo, Alex, Tim, and you."

"Can we call him something else?" Tim asked, and Troy nodded, looking over to where Jay was now dividing Tim's medicine up into two bottles. He watched his twin put one in his own pocket, and nodded. He had taught him well.

"Thing 1 and Thing 2," he joked, despite the fact he did not feel like joking particularly, and Tim snorted, a grin stretching his face.

"I can be Tim, he can be Asshole," he declared, and Troy snorted with laughter, causing Jay and other Tim to look over at them.

"How about you're Tim S., and I'm Tim W.," other Tim said flatly, glaring at them. "You know, not to be an _asshole_ about it."

"Guys, let's not fight," Jay said quietly, and turned to the forest. "Your friend is in there, with Alex. We have to go and get him out." He shuffled his feet, and opened the camera. "Does anyone else have a camera?"

"No," the other three said in unison, and Jay shook his head, looking concerned.

"Well… what if we get separated, what are we going to do then?" he asked, staring at the others, and Troy and Tim shrugged.

"It's okay, Jay, they haven't been living with this for the last five _years_… minimum," Tim W. mumbled. "Let's just go, okay."

As they turned the corner and the tunnel swung into view, Jay actually sat down in shock, legs turning weak and collapsing beneath him in seconds. Tim W. shook his head, turning away, and picked Jay up, eyes haunted.

"Come on, Jay," he murmured, and pulled him to his feet, Jay shaking his head.

"I'm fine. Tim, I'm _fine_," he murmured, and Tim W. nodded, brushing grass and leaves off of him.

"Sure you're fine. That's why you _collapsed_," he hissed, and Troy turned to them.

"Uh… if you like, you can wait out here," he offered, and Jay nodded as Tim W. shook his head. "Tim-" both Tims looked at him, "Tim S.? Can you wait out here with Jay, please?" This was fucking surreal. This was utterly, fucking, totally, crazily surreal.

"Sure thing," Tim nodded, and sat next to Jay on the ground.

"Tim W…. uh, you take Jay's camera, and we'll go in," Troy said, and realised how _painfully_ like #64 this was about to become. The tunnel wasn't calming his nerves either; it had never exactly been welcoming, but now it sat there, gaping with a malevolence that implied an open maw, ready to devour those idiotic enough to enter.

"Uh, you sure you don't want him in with us?" Tim W. asked, and Troy shook his head.

"Leaving Jay on his own without a camera is stupid," he said, and Tim W. looked at Jay, raising an eyebrow.

"_He_ gets it," he said, more than a little sarcastically, and Jay refused to look at him, folding his arms and staring at his own feet.

* * *

"Who _are_ you?" Alex asked, staring into Joseph's eyes, and Joseph's eyelids fluttered shut as he couldn't look into those burning brown eyes any longer. He turned his head away, and the ice-cold edge of a knife sliding against his jaw made him turn his head back up, shudders running through his body.

He couldn't answer - he had had barely six seconds to process the situation before Alex had smacked him in the head with a porcelain owl, the smashing sound the last thing he had heard before he blacked out - and he had awoken _here_, wherever here was. It was dark, and small, and Alex was knelt next to him and his mohawk was _still_ touching the ceiling.

"Don't answer then," Alex snapped, and Joseph let out a gasp of pain as the knife sliced through the skin of his cheek, leaving a shallow cut that oozed blood. "You can stay here."

"Wh-where are you going?" Joseph asked, and Alex slid the glasses off of his face, before dropping them to the floor and crushing them awkwardly with one cramped leg. Now Joseph was not only in the dark and alone _and_ tied to what felt like some pipes; he was blind as well.

"Rosswood Park," Alex said tonelessly, and then he had switched off the torch and was gone.


	3. Chapter 3

Troy glanced around in the tunnel. He couldn't see anything; no sign of Alex _or_ Joseph. No blood, either, which was somewhat comforting. Water dropped from the dank stone walls, and green moss stains clung to the sides, giving the vents that fed into it little beards. It was almost surreal, how different it felt from the last time he had been there.

"Can you see anything?" Tim W. asked, and Troy shook his head, swinging the keyring-torch that he had on his keys around. It lit up nothing, despite the bright sunlight that was beating down outside. Surely it should've been brighter in here…

"Nothing," he sighed. "Maybe he's at the chimneys." He rubbed his chin. Oh god, why couldn't they have filmed in a kitten factory or something? "Or maybe he's in the… the place where Jay nearly got shot." Tim W. nodded, and glanced around himself. Troy could see the little tremors in his hands, and wished he'd brought a real flashlight, even if it was nothing more than a weapon.

"We should've brought torches, it's kinda dark in here," Tim W. said loudly, and Troy nearly had a heart attack as his thoughts were seemingly spoken aloud. "I mean…"

The screen on Troy's camera flickered, and he stared at the screen in horror. It was terrifying to see the effects he used to create with ease on the computer suddenly appearing on the tiny screen, and he glanced up at Tim W., who was staring at him in apparent confusion.

"Come here," he said quietly, and Tim W. walked over, leaning to see the screen, which bucked like a horse as they both watched.

"Let's get out. _Now_," he said forcefully, and as the last word turned into a hacking cough Troy grabbed his arm and dragged him out, pulling him into the sunshine as the camera began to make hissing noises and turn to snow.

Jay glanced around from where he and Tim S. were sat, chatting away, and Troy shook his head, waving the camera until finally he had regained the breath to talk. One cough from Tim W. and Jay was on his feet, pulling Tim up to his feet.

"Let's not be here," Troy panted, and the four of them ran, until the tunnel was well behind them and they were lost on the trails of Rosswood. In fact, they would've run more, had Tim W. not begun a coughing fit that landed him on his knees, causing Tim S. to kneel next to him and Troy and Jay to back away as far as they could.

"I'm okay," Tim W. croaked in between hacking coughs, pushing Tim away forcefully, and Jay pointed the camera back at him. The lack of static on the screen comforted him, and he knelt down, Tim W. accepting his comfort and placation.

"When did you last take your medication?" Troy heard him murmured, and dragged Tim S. aside, glancing around to make sure that there was nobody around to see the bizarre situation.

"Where next," he hissed, and Tim S. motioned to Tim W.

"Is he fit to go anywhere else?" he whispered, and Troy shrugged. "Well, I don't think we should push him. I mean, we made him, we know what makes him tick, his limits, you know. We know how far he can go, right?" The look in his eyes showed Troy just what watching yourself have a breakdown was like; he looked at Jay, and took in all the little details that meant he might be about to watch the same thing.

"Don't bet on it," he murmured. "It's never that simple. I mean… we did wake up to our own fictional characters in our beds."

Across the clearing, Jay had his hand resting lightly on Tim W.'s shoulder, and Tim was shaking his head, trying to get the dancing colours to just go away and let him alone for another two hours; that way, his medication might actually last, and he wouldn't probably end up having to hold up a doctor's office again.

"Are you okay?" Jay whispered, and Tim W. shook his head. He'd never admit it to the other two, but Jay deserved the truth. "Do you need to go back? We can go back." Tim W. shook his head again, this time to clear it more than anything, and glanced over at Tim S. and Troy, a sneer forming on his face.

"I don't trust them. I mean, they say they 'wrote' us? What the hell?" he hissed, and Jay shrugged, sliding an arm over Tim's shoulder. Tim W. leant his head on Jay's shoulder for a moment, and then pulled back, hand on his forehead.

"Did Tim - the other Tim - show you the videos?" Jay asked quietly, and Tim W. stared at him, mistrust in his eyes. "…I have something to show you. You might believe after that…"

At this point, however, he was interrupted as someone came tumbling out of the bushes, scarred, bruised, covered in blood, and glasses hanging from his nose.

"Alex?!" Jay gasped, and Troy and Tim S. were kneeling next to him in a flash.

"Jo," Troy gasped, and Joseph gave a weak cough.

"H-help," he croaked, and Tim S. put a hand to his face, pulling it back when he realised his fingers were now tacky from blood.

"What, do we call an ambulance?" he asked Troy, voice filled with horror and a complete lack of knowledge of what to do, and Troy took his keyring-torch, shining it into Joseph's eyes.

"His pupils are fine," he said firmly, wishing he knew what the hell else that meant. "No head injuries, and I can't see any serious wounds, he's just been-" _sliced_, he wanted to say, but Joseph looked near-dead.

"This is Joseph?" Jay asked quietly, and Tim W. stood over him, glaring mistrustfully at the prone figure. "Is he like Alex?"

"No," Tim S. said tersely, and pulled off his jacket, spitting on the sleeve and trying to wipe some of the blood from Joseph's face. "Can you get Troy to _answer_ me, please?"

"No, we don't call an ambulance," Troy snapped. "Can you imagine?"

As they bickered Alex lay on the floor and smiled to himself. Only a little, so they would not notice.


	4. Chapter 4

Troy was pacing.

His feet scuffed against the wooden floor, beating out a tattoo of confusion and irritation, and Tim S. watched as he did so. Occasionally, Troy would stop, fix his green eyes on the window, and then shake his head and continue to pace.

"Perhaps the Operator sent them here," Tim S. suggested, and Jay looked at him.

"The Operator? That's what you call that thing?" he asked, and Tim S. nodded.

"But why?" Troy muttered, fist bunched under his chin. "Why would he bring you here? I mean, this is… this is a parallel universe or an alternate dimension or something. He could've just sent you to China."

"Where's Tim?" Tim asked, and both of them looked at him in confusion. "…the other Tim. You idiots."

"He went for a smoke," Jay said, and Tim S. nodded.

"I'm joining him. You two, if you figure anything out, shout me," he said, and stood up, grabbing his coat. "Troy, do you know where my lighter is?"

"I assume other Tim will have a lighter," Troy replied, and Tim S. was gone. "So… what was the last thing you remember?"

* * *

Tim W. was staring out across Tim S.'s front yard as Tim S. got out of the door.

"You feel any better?" Tim S. asked, and the other guy didn't look at him, instead taking a drag of his cigarette before replying.

"Fuck off."

Tim S. blinked.

"Excuse me?"

"I told you to fuck off and let me smoke," Tim W. said, dully, and blew a smoke ring. Tim S. stared at him for a moment, and then shook his head in disbelief.

"Sorry? What's the problem here?"

"Well, the way I see it," Tim W. said easily, finally casting a glance over at his twin, "you and Trey in there…"

"_Troy_."

"Yeah, whatever, seem to have dedicated _your_ lives to making our lives a misery." Tim S. blinked slowly, and then folded his arms. "Go ahead, try and prove me wrong."

"We didn't know, okay?" Tim S. said slowly, a burning feeling in his stomach - hot, slow anger - building until his knuckles ached to be buried in the other guy's face. And the worst thing...? He felt like that because he felt _guilty_.

"Oh, that makes it fine," Tim W. said, casting an eye over the front yard again. "Because, let me see… you've got a college education, and I got to go missing for _a year_. The _final_ year of college. You got a beautiful girlfriend, what's her name? Erika? And I got to be considered a _freak_." Anger had begun to colour his words. "You got to sleep in a nice warm bed every night, and wake up in the morning, _never knowing_ what it was like to have time go missing. To wake up, covered in leaf litter and mud-"

"Oh, so you're going to blame me for writing a shitty life for people who didn't exist until this morning?" Tim S. snapped. "Well, Troy made you guys up. I just happened to play _you_."

"I bet you were _happy_ about that," Tim W. said, and the edge in his voice could've _cut_. "What's it like to be happy, huh…" And here he looked at his phone, where Tim S. could see 'Tumb-' cut off by the other's thumb. Uh-oh. "'Timmy-Tims'? You answer to that? My oh my, look at all the fangirls."

"They're for you, asshole," Tim S. sighed, the will to fight leaving him just as suddenly as it had arrived. "Those fangirls? Most of them want _you_, as a character."

Tim W. shot him a look of venom, streaked with a healthy amount of disbelief.

"It's true," Tim S. said, and took the phone, navigating to the Marble Hornets tag. "If you skirt around all the gay porn and… whatever weird meme shit they've come up with today," he added, knowing full well his and Troy's 'Let's Play' was the gossip of the week, "horses, I think, you'll find more than enough people crying over how cruel Troy is to have written _you_."

* * *

"Will you do me a favour and go and check on Jo?" Troy said absently. He and Jay were sat opposite each other at the table in silence. Jay nodded, and stood up, fingers wrapped tightly around the camera. Troy did not begrudge him this.

"…_a ship_? They call it _a ship_?"

"Hey, listen, they call it 'Jam' sometimes," Tim S. was saying loudly, and Tim W. was staring at the phone in unremitting horror. "One of them has an entire Tumblr dedicated to gay porn. Of you."

"Fuck," Tim W. murmured.

"But you were saying about Jo?" Tim S. asked, and Troy invited them to pull up a chair and sit at the table.

"I don't know. I feel kind of suspicious," Tim W. said at last, and Troy rolled his eyes. "No, J- Troy, just listen." He steepled his fingers, and looked at them out of those tired brown eyes. "How did Alex get him to Rosswood…?"

"Well, he must've knocked him out," Tim S. suggested, and Tim W. shook his head.

"Nah. He's clear, he's not concussed, he's not even acting woozy. No drugs, no head trauma," he said, and Troy shrugged, closing his eyes and scrunching them shut.

"So maybe he had a weapon. Put it to his neck and told him not to scream," he suggested, and Tim W. shook his head, a strange smirk, devoid of all humour, crossing his pale lips.

"I looked in the front yard. There's _one_ set of footprints going out. The rest are car tracks. He carried him," he said confidently, and Tim S. nodded. "And you wouldn't carry someone unless they were unconscious or tied up, because they'd never allow themself to be carried. And he didn't have rope burns. Scars, but no rope burns. I don't know if the guy in there is Joseph."

"Well, Sherlock…" Troy began, and Tim S. clicked his fingers.

"He _was_ knocked out," he said excitedly, and Troy and Tim W. turned to look at him. "On the floor. There were shards of porcelain… I guess that stupid fucking porcelain owl Jennifer gave him that Tumblr went crazy about. He must've hit him with it."

"So, who's in there then?" Troy asked sharply.

"Someone who looks-" Tim S. began, but everyone else was way ahead. Tim W. was already out of the door.

* * *

Jay was sat on the end of the bed, staring at the Alex lookalike. He looked so peaceful in his sleep, even with all of the cuts and the blood they had not managed to wash off of him. He wondered what this 'Joseph' was like. Maybe like how Alex had been, before-

A tear trickled down his cheek, and he scuffed it away automatically, barely even paying it heed. At least the wounds didn't look too deep. In fact, some of them were just scratches upon the skin's surface…

His brow furrowed, and he leant in closer, holding his breath to keep from waking the sleeping man. Most of the wounds were superficial; lightly done but painful to look upon, and Jay couldn't imagine them being painful enough to leave Joseph disorientated. He reached out, and gently ran his hand along Joseph's scalp. No lumps or bumps…

Maybe Alex had drugged him, he wondered, and looked around. Tim hadn't tidied in here, so tiny flecks and streaks of blood still decked the carpet like perverse tinsel… it followed that nobody would've picked up anything Alex had used to drug Joseph. He leant over the bed, and his eyes flashed over the smashed porcelain owl. A horrible image formed in his mind-

-as a hand slid around his neck.


	5. Chapter 5

It all happened in seconds - as everything does; Jay felt the fingers dig into his windpipe and then was thrown back onto the bed, Alex swinging himself around to kneel on his chest and get a better grip on his neck-

_ -Jay wondered if this was how he was going to die, the calm, brown eyes of his best friend staring, as empty as dark tunnels, into his own-_

-just as Tim W. burst through the door. Alex removed a hand from Jay's neck and waved a knife he had apparently pulled from the air threateningly in Tim W.'s direction, but that would have required Tim W. stopping, or even slowing down, to see, and he didn't; instead, he slammed into Alex, his shoulder connecting with the boy's throat, carrying them both way over the bed and leaving Jay with red handprints on his pale neck.

And that was how Alexander Kralie ended up lying in the middle of Joseph DeLage's bedroom, fingers clutching desperately at his neck as he struggled to breathe, Timothy Wright punching him anywhere he could reach until finally Tim S. and Troy pulled him back.

* * *

"Where is he?" Troy hissed, clutching the knife as if he were actually prepared to use it, and Alex took the time to cough, glaring at the group as he did so.

"None of you are very good at this," he rasped sarcastically, quite a feat. "If you'd waited, you _could've_ followed me. That's where Jay would've been going." He stared at Jay, who looked away, fingers still massaging his abused throat.

"I don't-" Tim W. snarled, and Tim S. rolled his eyes.

"…trust him, yeah, we've heard this. I understand why, but _why_ in this particular case?" he asked, and Tim W. gave him a Look before continuing, shoulders arched as he stayed ready to attack.

"Why would he get us to bring him back, disguised as Joseph, when he was just going to attack Jay anyway?" he asked.

"Not the original plan," Alex said casually, and they turned to him. He gave a sardonic smile, and then winced as his throat twinged. "I was going to lead you all there tomorrow-" he stopped to cough, "-but I could tell Jay had figured it out when he started checking my head for signs of injury." Tim W. looked sideways at Jay, who was staring at Alex.

"How did you know I was suspicious?" he asked quietly, and Alex raised an eyebrow, a smirk crossing his face.

"Well, you could've been stroking my head for your own gratification," he mused throatily, and let out a nasty little choked laugh. "You _have_ been trying to follow me for almost two years…" Jay flushed an angry red, turning away from him, and Tim W. looked at him, and punched Alex in the face. Troy could almost have sworn that he saw him smile, a little, as he did so.

"We need him conscious, or he can't lead us to Jo," he said sharply, pulling Tim W. back by the shoulder, and Alex spat blood onto the floor.

"Not happening," he said flatly.

"We know it's in Rosswo-" Troy stopped short, and shook his head. "Not Rosswood." Alex's steely glare had not changed, and Troy had a sinking feeling. "…it's not in Rosswood, is it."

* * *

Joseph struggled wildly against his binds, but they refused to budge an inch, instead leaving painful, red-raw patches on the skin of his wrists and ankles. He had not cried yet; it was as if his body did not want to waste the resources. It was warm and dry wherever he was, and he was desperately thirsty, as well as hungry and in pain.

He wriggled awkwardly, hips screeching in pain as he shifted so that he was kneeling, legs tucked underneath him, and felt his head brush the ceiling. Surely there had to be something, something he'd _watched_, something he'd _read_… and something struck him.

He took a deep breath, tensing every muscle in his body and feeling the fibres of the rope burn against him, and then relaxed completely. It was something he'd read in a Stephen King novel, longer ago than he could remember - and, as he felt the ropes give _just_ a tiny bit, it seemed to be something that worked. He gave a wriggle, but there still wasn't enough give in the rope _or_ his arms.

How about if he dislocated his own shoulder? How did one _do_ that? _Could_ one do that? People had, he was sure; he had seen it on something Tim had put on once maybe when they were drunk at four a.m. He gave a jolt, and succeeded in hurting his arm quite a lot and not dislocating _anything_. Damn.

_joseph_

He stopped wriggling, and blinked owlishly, trying to make out anything in the darkness. Someone had said his name, he swore…

"Hello?" he whispered, and his voice echoed into the darkness… which was _very_ strange, because the other voice hadn't echoed _at all_…

_a bit_

_tied up_

_are we_

"Help me…" Joseph croaked, and felt something cold and smooth and horrible brush his face in the pitch black.

_okay_

* * *

Troy's head rested on the table, and he stared off into the distance, eyes focused and dreamy. Across the table from him, Tim W. was watching Entry #61 with a look of horror and disgust, Jay behind him, one hand on his shoulder, knuckles white.

Meanwhile, Tim S. sat opposite Alex in Joseph's room, clutching a spade appropriated from the garden shed, and watched as Alex quietly threatened everything they had ever held dear.

"…what's her name? Erika?" he was mumbling. "How would you feel about having her suddenly disappear, huh? Imagine that. Watching those bright, baby blue eyes disappear into a dark tunnel…"

"Shut up," Tim S. muttered, and Alex nodded, giving a smirk that was stained red by blood.

"Of course, that'd be if she still had eyes," he said, and there was a sudden movement, and then Alex's head slammed into the floor as the chair was kicked backwards, his shoulder giving a crunch as it dislocated. Tim S. strode to stand over him as Alex gasped in pain, and rested the bat lightly against the side of his head, tapping it gently against Alex's skull.

"You're going to be _very_ quiet now," he whispered, and Alex nodded.

"And here we see where Troy got _him_ from," he said, and gave a jerk of his head towards the kitchen door. "You act so 'chill', like you don't care… but when you're pushed you've got about as much self-control as _he_ does." Tim S. stared down at him in confusion. "But his other side is a masked psychopath, whereas yours…? Is still _you_."

* * *

Troy had not moved his head from that spot in half an hour, and so Jay eventually tiptoed over and put his head into Troy's line of sight.

"He's out there, alone," Troy mumbled, as if he was running on some kind of motion sensor. "He's out there, cold, and alone, with probably a serious head injury. He could be bleeding to death. He could've _bled_ to death." His lower lip quivered, and Jay reached out, putting a hand on Troy's upper arm and patting him gently.

"Alex was probably planning on using him as a bargaining tool," Tim W. said evenly. "He's most likely alive, and liable to remain that way." They were presumably meant to be comforting words, but Troy barely even blinked, green eyes dark as a pine forest in winter.

"Troy, he will be fine. Tomorrow, we'll make Alex lead us to him," Jay said soothingly, and Troy looked up at him. Jay was astonished to see tears escape Troy's eyes, and as Troy sat up, wiping them away hastily with the back of his hand, Jay felt pain rise in his chest. He had been so prepared to _hate_ Troy, giving him that stupid cow-eyed look as he told him how he had ruined his life… but now, he just saw himself three years ago, as he watched the first tapes. Naïve, unprepared, and watching his life slowly drop out through his fingers.

And his best friend stolen from him, of course.

"It's going to be okay," he murmured, and hugged Troy. Troy accepted the embrace, face buried into his hands as the sobs overtook him.

* * *

Tim S.'s head dropped a little as he sat slumped in the chair, and then he blinked, straightening up. He wasn't about to fall asleep; he'd seen enough stupid horror movies to know that sleeping was essentially dooming yourself to letting the prisoner escape and kill you.

Alex was still in the chair and was watching him, brown eyes black in the dim light. Something about his posture was a little different, but Tim attributed that to the dislocated shoulder. Let him squirm.

It took his brain a few seconds to catch up to 'dim light', and then he glanced around.

"Why is the light off?" he asked slowly, and Alex shook his head.

"Well, _I_ didn't turn it off," he said sarcastically. "I'm a little _tied up_." Tim S. glared at him, and stood up, walking over to the switch. He flicked it, and the light came on. "Well-" he said, turning around, and the chair to the head knocked him out immediately.

Alex looked down at the prone figure in disdain, and then gave his arm a push, leaning against the wall for extra leverage. There was a _pop_ as it was pushed back into the socket, and he gave a sigh of relief.

* * *

Troy, Tim W. and Jay did not hear the sound of Tim S. being knocked out. Troy was hiccuping the end of a crying jag out of himself, Jay was sat next to him rubbing his back occasionally, and Tim W. was watching them both… but mainly Jay.

"I… he's my _best friend_, you know," Troy was snuffling, and Jay was nodding sympathetically. He knew. "We've been best friends since forever. I mean, since _forever_." He gave a depressed sob, and Jay put an arm around his shoulders. Troy's fingers flexed as he tried to convey something he just couldn't in words, and then he put his head on his arms. "I'm _scared_."

_What about Tim?_ Tim W. thought, and Jay shot him a glance as if he could read his thoughts. _What about Tim? Is he not as important?_ Was this how Jay thought of him, really? Was he just second fiddle to Alex? Was that how Jay'd been written? Memories of Jay sprinting away from him in the tunnel suddenly made his head spin and his stomach heave, and he stood up, staggering out of the front door and sitting on the bottom step, gulping in great lungfuls of air until a clatter announced the arrival of Jay.

"What happened?" Jay asked quietly, and Tim W. shook his head, eyes closed tightly until the world had stopped spinning. "Have you had your medicine?"

"_Yes I have had my fucking medicine_," Tim W. snarled, and he felt Jay recoil away from him. He took another breath, teeth chattering a little, and put his head in his hands. "…sorry."

Jay gently sat next to him, and leant against him for a moment. Tim W. shook his head, feeling the dark clouds recede a little.

"What happened?" Jay repeated, and Tim W. shrugged, finally opening his dark eyes and turning them on Jay.

"Just…" he murmured, and stopped, so unsure of how to continue the sentence; Jay wrapped his arms around him, resting his head on his shoulder again. "Just… was I that? To you?"

"What?" Jay asked, green eyes filled with confusion, and Tim W. sighed. He didn't want to start the fight that would inevitably start should he push the point he was about to push.

"Nothing," he murmured, and Jay pecked him on the cheek. Tim W. glanced around, but the street was empty, the windows absent of movement, the door unmoving in its frame. "Stop it. What if they see?"

"They wrote us," Jay murmured, but his arms slid from around Tim W. "Surely they'd _know_." They didn't - he could tell - but he wasn't prepared to acknowledge that Troy didn't have full control of where they were going. That their story could deviate from what Troy knew was a terrifying thought.

"So… are… Troy and the other Tim…?" Tim W. asked, after a moment, and Jay shook his head. "Then _why_ would they write us?"

"I don't know. I have suspicions about Troy and Joseph though," he murmured, and Tim W. glanced around before pulling Jay close and holding him to him. "I don't know why."

"Well, we'll see when we find him tomorrow," Tim W. muttered. "Come on. Let's go sleep. We're going to need it."


	6. Chapter 6

"_Jay_! _Tim_!"

Tim W. and Jay turned to see Troy nearly fall out of the door. Luckily he was too distraught to see them pull away from each other, but then that begged the question of what had got him so riled up.

"It's Tim," he babbled, "he's…" Jay grabbed Troy, trying to calm him down, and Tim W. darted past him into the house and to Joseph's bedroom.

Tim S. lay in the middle of the floor, unconscious, and Tim W. could see, looking around, that there was no sign of Alex. Cursing, he slammed his hand into the wall and glanced around. The window lay wide open, but he took no chances; he slammed it shut and then checked every inch of the room; under the bed, behind the door, even in the wardrobe.

Then he lifted Tim S. up onto the bed, and called Jay and Troy in.

"He's gone," he spat, as Troy began the millionth head-injury check of the day on Tim S. "How did he untie himself?!"

"You don't think Tim would've done it?" Jay asked tentatively, motioning to the unconscious boy on the bed, and Troy shook his head.

"He's not stupid," he snapped defensively. "Guys, he's bleeding…" Blood was trickling down the side of Tim S.'s face, and Troy shook his head. "I'm calling an ambulance. You need to get hidden whilst the ambulance is here. Go to my house… Jay, do you remember how to get there?" He threw Jay his keys, and Jay nodded, grabbing Tim W.'s arm and pulling him backwards.

* * *

Tim S. woke up slowly to realise that he was in an ambulance, with a very bad headache and Troy sat next to him, watching him carefully. He blinked slowly, mind rewinding back to the point where the world had gone bright and painful for a brief moment, and the paramedic stood over him nodded.

"You okay, son?"

"My head…" Tim S. muttered thickly, tongue just coming under his control, and Troy nodded, face pained. There was blood on his lower lip, and as Tim watched he resumed biting it.

"That door must've really hit you, huh," the paramedic said, and Tim S. nodded slowly. Door…? "Mind telling me just what happened?" Troy went pale, and Tim S. looked at the man, realization dawning.

"I don't remember it even being a door," he said, honestly, and the man nodded, smiling.

"Good. Now, how many fingers am I holding up…?"

* * *

Tim W. lounged in the comfy chair in Troy's front room, glancing around occasionally to check the front door - bolted, locked and with a chair in front of it in case - or to check the bedroom door where Jay lay, sleeping as fitfully as he always did. He took a sip of the beer he held in one hand, and closed his eyes, wishing that the riot behind it would just shut up for one second.

His phone rang, the ringtone jolting him out of his reverie, and he saw Troy's name and answered it, heart speeding up just a little. What had happened…?

"Tim?" Troy said quietly, and Tim let out a sigh. He sounded okay…

"Troy," he said, evenly.

"Tim's being kept in overnight. He's fine," Troy continued hurriedly, before Tim W. could ask just _why_. "They just want to check he's not going to pass out or be sick or anything. I'll be back as soon as they give him another check over." There was silence, and Tim W. wondered why it was so strange. Hearing Jay's voice, but so rational, so calm. That was probably it. "How is it there?"

"No sign of Alex here," Tim W. said. "No news. Jay's asleep in your bed. Sorry." And then, as an image of the man who looked so like his Jay flashed into his head, he added, almost spontaneously, "take care coming back."

"Sure thing," Troy said, sounding almost - _almost_ - amused by Tim W.'s concern. "Goodbye."

* * *

Troy made it home without incident, and as he and Tim W. settled back into the chairs in the lounge, both armed with another beer, neither ready to sleep, he looked through the door at Jay, asleep on the bed, and calmly broached a topic Tim W. wasn't prepared for.

"So… uh, you and Jay?"

Tim W. hiccupped with shock as he drank, sending some beer cascading down his face onto his jacket. He slammed the can onto the table, and brushed himself off, giving Troy an honest-to-goodness look of terror that made him smile gently.

"Hey, I did write you guys," he murmured, and Tim W. blinked, before looking in at Jay again, who snuffled and rolled over as he watched. It made him smile, just a little. "It wasn't exactly _you_ he was meant to go for, but I can work with it…"

"Joseph does it for you, then?" Tim W. asked, and it was Troy's turn to almost cough up the drink he was steadily draining. Tim W. nodded, and motioned towards Jay. "Jay said before…"

There was a moment's silence, before Troy set his can down and nodded.

"…I guess he'd know," he finally said, shaking his head in resignation. "Was it so obvious?"

"Well, you seem pretty chill," Tim W. explained, "but when we had Alex before, you looked like you were about to kill somebody. Namely Alex." Troy nodded, and shook his head, eyes screwed up tightly for a minute. "You okay?"

"Jo's out there," Troy sighed, and Tim saw pain light up his olive-green eyes for a moment. "He's all alone, he's hurt, he's probably scared out of his fucking mind, and the worst thing is, to make sure he's okay, I've had to threaten someone who looks just like him."

"Except the eyes," Tim W. said, staring at the television, which was off, reflecting both of them - pale, alone people. Troy stared at the reflection as well; two people who would normally be sat in the same places, but one of them was just… from the wrong universe.

"Except those fucking eyes," he repeated quietly, and took a gulp of beer. There had been something about Alex's eyes that had been _wrong_, that was it. He _was_ Joseph, except for the eyes. It was as if somebody had ripped out Joseph's calm, patient, sweet brown eyes, and replaced them with burning, copper pits of… he couldn't even put his finger on what it was. Pure, feverish hatred, he guessed.

"Let's not talk about this," Tim W. said hastily, seeing Troy spacing out a little, and Troy shook his head and returned to the present, smiling dolefully. "Let's talk about something else. At least, until tomorrow."

* * *

Joseph was lying on the ground - on muddy, cool, damp ground - when he woke up, and, though he barely even registered it - he was untied. He looked up slowly, to see a pair of trainers in front of him, before fingers wrapped in his mohawk and he was dragged up painfully.

"How did you get out?!" Alex snarled, and Joseph gave a frightened mewl. "Who _let you out_?!"

_me_

Alex spun around on his heel, holding Joseph like a human shield as The Operator advanced, tentacles poised like Medusa's snakes.

_its been a while_

"Back off," Alex snarled, and Joseph stared at the abomination that had set him free.

_you are holding_

_something_

_that belongs to me_

"Nuh-uh. He's my bargaining chip," Alex growled, and a tentacle whipped out like black smoke. He raised a taser, and the figure stopped momentarily. "Yeah, I got smart."

_too smart_

"Yeah, well, what are you going to do about it?" Alex snarled, grip on Joseph relazing ever so slightly, and Joseph suddenly saw an opportunity. He kicked his foot back, hitting Alex on the knee. Alex gave a yelp of pain, and Joseph threw himself forward, tentacles wrapping around his waist as he did so. He struggled for a moment, and then they set him down on the other side of the figure, placing him in - he guessed - safety.

_run_

He did.

* * *

It was 4.a.m, and Tim W. was watching Troy sleep.

Not in a creepy way, he hastened to reason with himself; Troy had fallen asleep in the chair, and was gently snuffling his way through whatever sweet dreams or nightmares he had been landed in, and there was little else to do that would not disturb his rest.

And besides, he reasoned further, Troy looked _so_ like Jay, his Jay. It would be wrong of him not to try and keep a memory where Jay was so peaceful, even if it wasn't truly Jay. Or was it? The entire situation made his brain hurt, and so he decided to just settle for watching Troy sleep and enjoying it.

Then, there came a resounding thudding at the door, and Troy was jolted awake.

"I'll get it," Tim W. murmured, and Troy shook his head, creeping to behind Tim W. as they both approached the front door. Tim W. leant forward to grasp the handle, Troy close enough to push it shut should they need to, and-

Joseph was outlined in the door, and then Tim W. grasped him by the neck and pulled him in, throwing him onto the floor. He was on top of him in another instant, and Joseph threw up both of his arms to protect himself, bewildered as to why Tim would attack him…

"Tim, it's Jo!" Troy shouted, and pulled Tim W. back as he prepared to strike. "Stop!" Tim W. struggled for a moment, and then took a look at Joseph, who had backed up against the wall, staring in horror. "Stop."

"How do you know?" Tim W. asked desperately, and Troy shook his head.

"His eyes, look at his eyes," he said quietly, and Tim W. looked. There was nothing of that effervescent rage that Alex had; instead, there was only dark fear and tiredness in Joseph's eyes. He was still, and then nodded.

"Jo?" Troy whispered, kneeling in front of the boy, and Joseph nodded.

"What's _happening_?" he croaked miserably.


	7. Chapter 7

"We can't take him to the hospital," Tim W. said resolutely, and Troy lunged to his feet, almost pulling out a handful of his own hair in the process. "Troy, try and see sense…"

"But he's badly hurt!" Troy snapped, despair adding a little whine to his voice, and Tim W. nodded calmly, placing a hand on Troy's arm. Troy snatched it back, pouting like a sulky child, and Tim W. shook his head gently.

"Yes. And what if we take him? How do we explain the fact he has knife wounds? A head injury?" he asked calmly.

"We say he was attacked," Troy said, almost snarling under his breath. "We don't know who. We don't know where. He came back…" He took a deep breath.

"So they come and search the house, and what do you know? Some weird DNA results come up, because who knows if you and Jay, or me and Tim, share the same DNA? I assume we do." A light flickered on in Troy's eyes, and Tim W. nodded, seeing he had a foothold. "Blood spatters from Alex, of course, as well as several discarded pieces of rope. Now, if we _do_ share DNA, that looks an awful lot like whatever happened to Joseph happened _here_, and because of me… or Tim Sutton," he said levelly, and Troy blinked, before nodding slowly, head sinking into his hands. "Before you know it, we're all being arrested, oh, and did I mention that several of us are the same _person_? Especially so soon after Tim S. went into hospital…" he added, just in case.

"Jesus," Troy murmured softly, and looked at the sofa where Joseph was resting fitfully.

"Picked the wrong weekend to quit sniffing glue, huh?" Tim W. said a tad forcedly, but Troy couldn't help but laugh at the reference. Tim W. felt relief settle in his heart, and gave that fleeting twitch of the mouth that passed for his smile. "So, we get him cleared up, we check there isn't anything serious, and then we get him to _sleep_."

"He's managing that by himself," Troy murmured, but the fight had clearly gone out of him; he stood up, and moved to sit on the edge of the sofa, gently stroking Joseph's face to try and wake him up. To see the love in those green eyes, from Jay's eyes, was more than Tim W. could take; he had to look away for a moment, and he wandered into the bedroom, to sit next to Jay who was still gently snoring to himself on the bed.

"Mmm?" Jay murmured, and Tim W. stroked his head. "Tim?"

"Joseph's back," he whispered, and Jay pushed himself up on his elbows, blinking sleep away furiously. "It really _is_ Joseph as well." Jay paused a moment as he stared into Tim W.'s eyes, and then nodded, and lay back down. Tim W. waited until Jay was comfortable, and then lay next to him, wrapping him up in his arms and nuzzling up to him. "We'll catch Alex, okay?"

But Jay had already fallen back to sleep.

* * *

Tim S. lay in the hospital bed, breathing shallow and unhurried. His dreams were fleeting snaps of nothingness; empty, shallow vignettes of random imagery that were here and gone again in a flash before he resurfaced for maybe a moment, enough to blink and then be under again.

A black shadow loomed over him, but he didn't notice, instead rolling over and pulling the thin covers with him. He let out a rattling sigh, and the shadow paused, before a tendril of darkness snaked out from its back and gripped the edge of the cover, gently tucking him in.

_now_

_let us see_

_what can be_

_done_

* * *

Troy awoke to a bright new morning with his head reclining on the sofa next to Joseph's knees. He stretched groggily, pushing himself to his knees, and then sniffed.

Something smelt like… bacon.

He staggered into the kitchen, muscles cramping from his position sleeping next to the sofa, and Tim W. was in the kitchen. If he had been whistling merrily, it would have made a cosy domestic scene; as it was, it was just the angriest fry-up ever cooked.

"I'm making breakfast," he said shortly, and Troy sat down, staring at the cooker. He was a bundle of nerves, incapable of feeling anything other than hunger at that precise moment, and so he let himself relax and just watch Tim W. cooking, one hand on his arm.

"'w's J'?" he asked, and Tim W. turned to look at him in confusion. "…said, how's Ja'?"

"Are you feeling alright?" Tim W. asked, and Troy shook his head, yawning.

"Sl'p'," he muttered into his hand. Tim W. placed a plate of bacon and eggs down in front of him, and he grinned despite himself. "'sn't this f' Jay?"

"Just eat it. I'll give him some of this," Tim W. said offhand, and Troy almost fell face-first into the plate. "Try not to fall asleep in it, hot fat burns." Troy made a grunting noise that implied he would eat his bacon however the hell he wanted, and grasped a handful of bacon, shoving it into his mouth.

"Thanky'," he mumbled, and Tim W. nodded at him, grabbing a plate for Jay. "Can I help?"

"Nah, kid, just sit there," he said absently, and Troy grinned goofily through a mouthful of bacon. "I'll be right back."

He was true to his word, returning in seconds to pull up a chair next to Troy, who had slowed down his eating sufficiently to hold a decent conversation, and when Jay had been woken up by the breakfast left next to his bed he wandered into the breakfast plate in hand to find Tim W. and Troy engaged in deep conversation.

"Are you two okay?" he asked, and Tim W. nodded, pulling out the chair next to him.

"Troy was just telling about when he was a kid," he explained, and Jay regarded his doppelganger with a polite but disinterested air. Troy knew why; nobody wanted to hear about the childhood they _could_ have had, especially not from the person who snatched it away from them. So he put his hand up, and Jay captured Tim W.'s attention instead; as the phone rang, Troy picked it up from the kitchen counter, and leant away so that he could hear the person on the other end.

Tim W. paid no mind to Troy's responses, but even he couldn't miss Troy suddenly turning white and slamming the phone down.

"What." His voice was flat, already accepting of whatever further misery the universe was throwing his way.

"Tim had a seizure in the night," Troy said, and his voice was almost inaudible. "They pumped him full of drugs and got him scheduled for an MRI scan this afternoon."

"I didn't think he had any history of seizures," Tim W. said sharply.

"He doesn't. Guys, they went to get him this morning and he'd gone," Troy said, and stood up. "If you'll excuse me, I have to wake up Joseph." He stood up, gave the most terrifying smile Tim W. had ever seen, and then kicked the chair across the room so hard it hit the wall and the leg flew off.


	8. Chapter 8

Tim W. really didn't know what to do. Jay sat with his head in his hands, staring at the pattern on the plates and slowly shaking his head. Troy had stormed into the bathroom, where there now came the sound of breaking things and rage.

"Go and check he hasn't hurt himself," Jay murmured, staring at the pattern on the table. "I need to go and mark out where I found you that time in Rosswood. We'll start there." He stood up, and made his way into the living room where Joseph sat with heavy, resigned steps.

Tim W. stood outside the bathroom, waiting for a gap in the cursing and smashing before knocking on the door gently. He wasn't sure why he'd been nominated as team dad all of a sudden, but he was prepared to roll with it.

"Troy?" he asked, and there was silence. "Troy, are you okay?"

The silence continued, which worried Tim W. a little.

"I'm coming in if you don't answer me," he said warningly, and there was a thud against the door. "_With words_."

"Fuck off."

Tim W. shrugged. At least Troy was okay.

"Are you going to come out so we can plan to find him?" he asked.

"_Fuck off_."

* * *

He could barely see in this fucking thing.

The forest was endless, it seemed, and alive around him; whispers filled his ears, echoing from the treetops that formed a canopy of green over his head, and once or twice he could have sworn he saw It moving amongst the trees. He had all the memories of the entries in his head; they played like damaged tapes in his mind. But he could remember the other things as well, things that they had not put into the series. The combined knowledge was going to serve him well.

They would come for him; he could not assure their safety in the woods, not with It striding around. They would come looking, and he would have to protect them. _Again_. Maybe if he just knocked them all out and put them in the shack like last time. It worked then.

There was a crackling of wood to his right, and he glanced sideways, the mask's eyeholes restricting his vision. It was close. Too close.

He turned left.

* * *

Well, Troy was out of the bathroom, Tim W. thought.

He was sitting at the table with a butcher knife, though, which really was only a moderate improvement. He had cut his hand open on something he had smashed in the bathroom - the mirror was intact, but not much else bar the major fixtures was - and was refusing to let anyone bandage it. The breakdown had seemingly come from nowhere, but Tim W. realised that he wasn't used to the stress. That didn't mean he didn't need to get a grip, though.

"Troy, let me look at your hand," he said reasonably, and received a sideways glare from him. "Troy, you're bleeding."

Troy said nothing, instead still staring at the table. On an impulse, he stabbed the knife into it, and Tim W. put a hand to his face.

"Listen, we can't go and find Tim S. if you're freaking out. Save that for when we find him," he said gently, and Troy looked up at him. The rage in his expression was palpable.

"It's your fault," he said hoarsely, standing up - thankfully without the knife - and Tim W. raised his eyebrows.

"I'm sorry, I didn't hear you properly. I can't _possibly_ have just heard you say this is _our_ fault?" he said, teeth already gritted, and Troy completely snapped.

"Of _course _it's your fault!" he screamed, shouldered hunched, teeth bared. Tim W. was fuming, but he was also taken aback; he had never expected the boy to have it in him. "Our life was fine! We were doing _fine_, until _you_ showed up!"

"Oh, and you think I don't know how that feels?" Tim W. snarled, squaring up to him. "Pretty fucking sure that last bit was a _direct_ quote from _me_!" Troy's eyes were burning; he could see too much of Alex in there, and it didn't make his fists itch any less.

"Oh, so because I fucked up your life without _knowing_, you what? You cross fucking _universes_ to come and destroy everything I love? _You aren't fucking real_!" Troy's voice weakened to a hoarse croak as he lunged forward, fingers hooked into claws and aimed at Tim W.'s face. Tim W. caught his wrist and swung his other fist into his stomach, leaving the boy coughing helplessly and dangling from Tim W.'s fist.

"You want to talk about blame? You want to go there?" Tim W. shouted in his face, before dropping him and turning his back, punching the wall as hard as he could. There was a nasty crack, but he didn't even feel the pain, too energised by the adrenaline. "We can blame you for everything, and what have we done? We've _helped_! We've risked our _lives_ staying with you and trying to find your _stupid_ friends!"

"Get out then."

Tim W. turned to look at Troy, who was sat up, clutching his stomach on the floor.

"And go where?" he asked, still snarling, but his voice had lost much of its fire. "And go _where_. You're all we've got."

* * *

Alex lay curled up on the floor of the tunnel - normally this would've been the stupidest place to go, but he was pretty certain that the creature was out stalking the other idiots. He uncurled, whimpering in pain for a moment before gritting his teeth.

They had honestly done a number on him - now he could examine his injuries like a cat licking its wounds, and he did so. His shoulder still ached, his rubs hurt, his mouth tasted like blood and he _thought_ one of his teeth was slightly wobblier than usual, and it definitely hurt when he probed it with his tongue. Then again, visiting a dentist hadn't exactly been on the agenda for the past few years, so it could be anything.

_you_

Terror seized him, and he turned to see the figure blocking the end of the tunnel - the safe end. He stood up, searching his pockets for his Taser… which he had left in the tunnels. Damn it.

_what_

_are you doing here_

This didn't seem right. It seemed confused; disorientated. It wasn't trying to draw him towards it either, which was a bonus. So he did the job himself and charged at it, remembering when he had done the same thing at the park. This time, it worked a little better, and he felt a sense of heat before falling out into the woods on the other side. He kept going, feet pounding on the trail, pain suddenly gone as adrenaline flooded his body once more.

_wrong one_

* * *

Jay and Joseph had been sent out to get some food; in all the excitement, the boys had forgotten to go and do such mundane tasks as buy food, drinks or even wash up. In order to try and restore some sense of normality, they had been sent to rectify two of the three, and Tim W. was trying to figure out exactly what he'd done to his hand.

"Goddamn it," he hissed, and Troy, full of remorse and back to his usual self, stood next to him, awkwardly holding a bandage. If Tim W. had broken his hand, he wasn't exactly sure what he was going to do, but making him break a knuckle had only added to the guilt and stress that had caused his epic meltdown in the first place. It was _his_ fault, he could hear in his head. _His _fault.

"Let me…" he said meekly, and Tim W. shook his head.

"No," he said stiffly, and then sighed, shoulders slumping. "No, it's okay."

"Sorry for flipping out. I've never had anything like this happen to me before," Troy continued, just as meekly, and Tim W. nodded. "Give me your hand. I'll…" He realised he had no idea of how to fix a broken knuckle. "…tie it up."

Tim W. snorted with laughter, and Troy couldn't help but feel a smile spread across his face. The wounded hand was extended, and Troy took it, looking at the damage. Tim W.'s knuckle was a worrying purple, with red fringes that looked painful. He gently pressed it with his thumb, and Tim W. swore.

"Sorry, sorry," Troy said hurriedly, and began to bind it, occasionally pressing the spongy, bruised skin with a thumb to ensure he wasn't tying it too tightly on painful areas. As he did so, he felt more guilt sink into him. Maybe he was demanding too much of the other two; god knows they had gone through enough. Maybe it should be him and Tim S. … Tim. Oh god. He was in the woods, probably insane, and it was _all Troy's fault_.

Tim W. winced, jerking his hand away, and Troy grasped it instinctively, realising he'd tied the bandage a little tight. He loosened it, and then tied it up, pinning it with a few safety pins.

He looked up to see Tim W. staring at him in what appeared to be dumbfounded but intense concentration.

"Um… that should help. Don't overuse it," he murmured, and Tim W. didn't say anything, just cocked his head, letting a little smile cross his face. "_What_?"

"Nothing," Tim W. said quietly, and the door swung open.


End file.
